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•*  "iti'  m 

BUHNAND 
Romance  Under  Difficulties 

5^' 

I 

THE     MINOR     DRAMA 

^t)t  Slctiiifl  Hliftfon. 
No.  CXII. 


ROMANCE  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES; 

AN  ORIGINAL  FARCE,  IN  ONE  ACT. 
BY  F.  C.  BURNAND,  ESQ., 

Author  ofViUikins  and  his  Dinah,''  "  Si.  George  and  the  Dragon," 
"  In  for  a  Holiday,"  "  Out  of  the  World,"  ^'c,  Jfc. 


TO    WniCn    AKE    ADDED 

A  description  of  the  Costume — Cast  of  the  Characters — En'rances  and  Eziia 
Relative  Positions  of  the  Performers  on  the  Stage,  and  tlie  whole  of  the 
Stage  Business. 


AS    PERFORMED    AT    THE 

PRINCIPAL    LONDON   AND    AMERICAN** THEATRES. 


NEW  YORK  : 
SAMUEL  FRENCH,  PUBLISHER, 

122  NASSAU  STREET  (Up  Staiis;. 


©a»t  of  tjjc  ©Jjaractsrs. — [TIomance  Under  Difficpltibb.] 


Mr.  Benjamin  Newberry, 
Mr.  Frederick  Markham,    - 
Mr.  Timotuy  Digoles, 
Miss  Fanny  Newberry, 


Jiarnum's  3fuseum, 

-  Mr.  J.  Herbert 
Mr.  Levick. 

-  Mr.  J.  Langard. 
Miss  Orton. 


Costume. — Modern. 


STAGE     DIRECTIONS. 


L.  means  First  Entrance  Left.  R.  First  Entrance  Right.  S.  E.  I 
Second  Entrance,  I.efl.  S.  E.  R.  Second  Entrance,  Right.  U.  E.  1. 
Upper  Entrance,  Left.  U.  E.  R.  Upper  Entrance,  Right.  C.  Centre, 
L.  0.  Left  Centre.  R.  C.  Right  of  Centre.  T.  E.  L.  Third  Entrance 
left.  T.  E.  R.  Third  Entrance,  Right.  C.  D.  Centre  Bocyr.  D.  R. 
Door  Right.  1).  L.  Door  Left.  U.  D.  L.  Upper  Door,  Left.  U.  D.  R. 
Upper  Door,  Right. 

*,*  The  reader  is  supposed  to  be  on  the  Stage,  facing  the  AudionoSt 


^X79  tlNIVKKSlI  V  OI.   <;Af,IF(>RNS 

y^  £Q  SANTA  liAliHAHA 


ROMANCE  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES. 


As  ferformed  at  Cambridge,  1856. 


SCENE. — A  Room.  Bed  with  half -drawn  curtains.  Cupboard  door, 
R.  c,  a  closet,  with  key  in  the  lock,  l.  u.  e.,  door  of  entrance,  r.  u.  e.  ,• 
window.  L.  c.  Table  in  centre  Properties — trombone,  candle,  matches, 
snuffers,  string,  letters,  pens,  ink,  paper,  table  cloth,  slippers,  pair  of 
Wellingtons,  dressing  gown,  pickle  jar,  eatables,  cigar  case,  stick  for 
Newberry.  Lights  down.  Three  deep  notes  of  a  trombone  heard  out- 
side. 

Enter  Diggles,  well  wrapped  up,  a  trombone  under  his  arm.  Shuts  door 
cautiously,  sneezes,  advances,and  while  talking  lights  candle. 

Diggles.     Good  gracious  !  was  there  ever  known  such  an  unfortunate 
unlucky,  individual  as  myself,  {sneezes.)  Born  with  a  romantic  turn  of 

mind,  and  destined  to  live  in  this  common-place  world.     I'm  d d  ! 

no,  I  won't  swear ;  but  I'll  relieve  my  feelings  by  becoming  a  lively 
nuisance  to  my  wretched  and  unroinantic  neighbors  :  {blows  trombone.) 
my  spirit  rises  with  the  strain.  (  rs. — Voice  below,  "Now  then,  stop 
that  row  up  there.")  Ha,  ha !  goo  —I've  made  some  one  miserable ;  per- 
haps some  one  trying  to  go  to  sleep  ;  there's  a  demoniac  cheerfulness 
about  that  idea  which  suits  my  dismal  feelings,  {is  about  to  blow  again 
— stops.)  Stay — perhaps  my  unknown  charmer,  is  below ,  perhaps  she 
is  trying  to  go  to  sleep — shall  I  disturb  her  soothing  slumber  ?  no. 
Away,  thou  tuneful  elephant !  Day  after  day,  night  after  night,  for 
five  years,  have  I  vainly  tried  to  become  a  hero  of  romance — but  it 
won't  do.  My  name's  against  me — decidedly  unromantic ;  is  there  any- 
thing inspiring  in  Diggles  ?  If  I  was  told  to  pick  oat  a  word  by  which 
to  inflame  all  England  with  martial  ardour,  it  would  not  be — Diggles. 
It's  not  in  rank  I  can  seek  consolation  ;  who  ever  heard  of  the  Duke  of 
Diggles  ?  But  still  there  is  a  chance  left  for  me,  and  I  may  yet  become 
a  hero  of  romance.  Below  my  rooms — on  the  first  floor — lives  a  lady 
with  a  shadow.  I  don't  mention  that  as  a  romantic  circumstance,  as 
people  very  often  do  have  shadows — but  such  a  shadow  ! — the  reality 
must  be  lovely.  Well,  to  that  shadow  have  I  been  frantically  making 
love  for  the  last  three  nights.  I  was  determined  to  serenade  that  love- 
ly form — but  a  slight  drawback  to  this  proceeding  presented  itself  in 
the  curious  but  equally  unpleasant  fact  that  I  am  not  acquainted  with 
one  single  note  of  music  ;  indeed,  I  can  couacientioualy  assert  that  I 


4  ROMANCE   UNDER    DIFFICULTIES. 

never  saw  any  palpable  difierence  between  "God  save  tlie  Queen"  and 
'Top  goes  the  Weasel."  But  would  my  love  hesitate  at  such  an  ob- 
stacle ?  no.  So,  after  thinking  over  a  variety  of  instruments,  I  at 
length  selected  this  gentle  warbler  as  most  suitable  to  my  dismal  feel- 
ings, and  decidedly  the  easiest  to  play — some  people  might  consider  it 
monotonous,  but  that's  a  matter  of  taste.  Well,  I  begin  my  overtures 
on  Tuesday  night,  and  it's  now  Friday — during  which  time  I  have  been 
iu  imminent  danger  of  being  taken  up  by  a  policeman  or  catching  cold, 
[smezes.]  which  last  it  strikes  me  I  have  caught.  But  what's  a  cold  to 
the  insult  my  romantic  feelings  received  to-night  ?  For  while  I  was 
giving  a  last  plaintive  and  prolonged  note,  I  saw  the  window  open  ; 
but  instead  of  a  sweet  female  voice  saying,  "Dearest,  that  strain  again!" 
a  singularly  gruff  voice  saluted  my  ears,  with  "Be  off,  will  you — you're 
a  nuisance !"  Now  there's  nothing  romantic  in  that.  But  once  again 
will  I  try  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  beautiful  shadow.  Oh,  if  that 
ycning  woman  only  knew  the  amount  of  breath  I've  wasted  upon  her, 
she'd  pity  me.  Ijet  me  tune  up.  [blows.)  I'll  just  snuff  out  the  candle — 
{j7uts  out  the  camlle.) — there.  {s)iee:es.)  What  a  confounded  cold  I've  got. 
But  what's  a  cold  to  me?  [sneezes).  I'm  off.  ,  Exit,  r.  u.  e. 

Enter  Markham  by  window  L.  c,  which  lie  shuts  after  him. 

Mark.  Safely  landed  at  last.  Nasty  work  this,  climbing  up  a  shaky 
ladder  in  the  dark.  I  m  sure  I've  damaged  some  portion  of  my  attire 
in  eSecting  an  entrance  into  the  garden  over  that  ingenious  species  of 
torture — namely,  broken  glass  artistically  arranged  on  the  top  of  a 
wall — certainly  with  an  eye  to  cflect.  Here  I  am  at  last.  I  hope 
Fanny  recollects  the  appointed  time.  I  wish  there  was  a  light  here. 
Uh,  thank  goodness !  a  candle  and  a  box  of  matches.  As  the  poet 
beautifully  observes,  "Sure  such  a  pair  was  never  seen  so  justly  formed 
to  meet  by  nature."  [lights  the  candle.)  Hey  1  why  what  the  deuce  are 
these  ?  boots !  Well,  this  is  an  absurdity  in  ladies'  costume  that  savours 
somewhat  of  the  indelicate — it's  quite  going  into  extremes  ;  and — hollo! 
cigars — let  -me  look  round.  Oh,  it's  quite  clear  I  must  have  mistaken 
the  room.  What  a  ridiculously  unpleasant  situation.  I  never  can  at- 
tempt that  wall  again,  and  I  can't  go  without  seeing  Fanny.  If  any 
one  comes  and  finds  me  here,  I  shall  have  the  pleasant  alternative  of 
being  taken  up  as  a  burglar,  or  confined  as  a  lunatic.  I  had  bettei 
take  to  the  ladder — but  my  appointment,  [a  Female  Voice  sings  below.) 
That's  Fanny's  voice.  Shall  I  leave  the  house  where  Fanny  dwells  ? 
no.  Ha  !  stay — here  arc  writing  materials.  I'll  send  her  a  letter  by 
an  impromptu  telegraph;  [wrdc.s  at  table.)  and  for  the  rest  I'll  trust  to 
luck  and  a  tolerable  share  of  impudence.  "  Dear  Fanny,  meet  me  in 
the  room  above  as  soon  as  possible.  I  have  glorious  news.  Yours 
ever" — there,  I  shan't  sign  my  name,  [tici  it  to  some  string.)  Now,  how 
to  weight  it.  Ah  1  the  snulVcrs — capital,  [tics  the  snuffers  on.)  Now  to 
drop  it  down,  [opens  window)  Tiire>'  taps-— down  it  goes;  it's  touching 


ROMANCE    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES.  O 

the  window — one — two — three.  Hurrah  !  she's  got  it.  (shtUs  windoiij.) 
Now,  if  no  one  disturbs  me  I  shall  be  in  luck,  {trombone  Iieard  outside 
R. — Voice,  "Go  away,  or  I'll  give  you  in  charge."  (Diggles  speaks 
mithout,  R.)  "Pooh !  mind  your  own  business — go  to  bed !")  Halle? 
what's  all  that  ?"  Confound  it — some  one  coming  up  stairs  ! — It's  Fan- 
ny, {listens  at  door  r.  u.  e.  a  sneeze  heard  and  then  a  fall)  No,  it  isn't — 
she  doesn't  come  up  stairs  in  that  elephantine  manner.  Where  can  I 
retire  to  meditate  on  my  course  of  action  ?  What's  this  ?  a  cupboard? 
The  very  thing — roomy  and  change  of  air.  Now  to  lock  myself  Id 
and  meditate.  Exit  into  closet  l.  u.  e.  taking  keii 

Enter   Diggles,  r.  u.  e.,  speaking  off  as  he  enters. 

Diggles.  I  did  not  kick  your  boots,  sir  ;  tliey  got  in  my  way,  they 
always  do.  That  confounded  fellow  on  the  ground  floor  systematically 
places  his  boots  outside,  so  that  I  invariably  fall  over  them.  Ho'lo 
what's  this  ?  Why,  who  has  been  lighting  a  candle  ?  I  could  almost 
take  my  oath  that  I  snuffed  that  candle  out  before  I  went  down  stairs  ; 
but  I  don't  see  the  snuffers.  Did  I  snuff  it  or  did  I  not !  I  must  say. 
Why  somebody's  has  been  at  my  writing  case.  Now  I'm  rather  curi- 
ous to  know  if  that's  my  landlady ;  because,  if  it  is,  she's  been  trying 
on  my  boots.  What  an  unfeminine  proceeding  !  While  she  was  about 
it,  I  wonder  she  didn't  smoke  a  cigar.  Yes  that's  the  way  they  all 
treat  me —  Iwho  was  born  to  be  a  hero  of  romance — bnt  no  matter 
I'll  just  put  on  my  slippers  and  dressing  gown  and  take  a  little  supper. 
My  second  serenade  this  evening  was  no  go.  I  can  stand  it  no  longer — 
human  nature  won't  bear  it.  {sneezes)  there  is  nothing  so  unromantic  as 
a  sneeze  ;  (sneezes.) but  that's  all  I  got  by  my  ardent  attachment  to  a 
lovely  shadow,  {clears  table.)  Where's  my  cold  fowl  ?  here  it  is — {gets 
eatables  If c, from  cupboard,  r.  c.)  bread — now  where  are  my  pickles? 
they're  not  here.  Oh,  perhaps  Mrs.  Jones  has  put  them  into  her  cup- 
board for  change  of  air.  She  can't  have  eaten  a  whole  jar  of  pickles, 
including  onions.  Ecod,  I  think  she'd  have  had  enough  of  them,  {goes 
to  L.  u.  E.)  Why  the  cupboard's  locked.  Now  where  is  the  key?  what 
on  earth  could  I  have  done  with  that  key  ?  Confound  it !  the  only 
thing  to  have  made  me  bappy  was — pickles.  It's  done  on  purpose. 
Well,  I  must  take  my  supper  without  my  pickles. 

{sits  K.  H.  of  table  and  begins  to  eat) 

Mark,  {looking  out  of  closet,  l.  u.  e.j  I've  settled  on  a  plan  of  action 
— now  put  it  into  execution,  {cojnes  a  little  way  out,  stumbles  and  tlien 
retires  quickly.) 

Diggles.      Eh — ^what's  that?    There's    that  confounded  cat    here 
again,  I  do  believe.     Puss,  puss,  puss, — tit,  tit,  tit !  I  don't  see  it.    If  I 
catch  that  noisy  specimen  of  the  feline  race,  I'll  do  for  it  frightfully. 
{goes  on  eating.  Markham  com£S  down  and  stands  l.  h.  of  table  Diggles 
looking  up,  sees  him.) 

IVIark.     What  do  you  mean  by  it,  sir  ? 

Diggles.  Well  this  is  cool — this  facetious  individual  intrudes  him- 
self upon  me — ^uninvited,  not  to  say  mysteriously,  and  then  asks  what 


6  ROMANCE   UNDER    DIFFICULTIES. 

I  mean  by  it.  Sir,  I  think,  taking  everything  into  consideration,  that 
I  am  the  person  who  should  ask  the  question !  What  do  you  mean 
by  it? 

Mark.  No  trifling  !  listen — ^you  see  before  you  a  wretched  indi- 
vidual. 

DiGGLEs.    I  do ! 

Mark.    Have  pity  on  me  ;  put  yourself  ifi  my  casfe. 

DiGGLES  Thankee,  I'd  rather  not ;  but  to  oblige  you  111  pity  you, 
and  now,  perhaps  you'll  condescend  to  explain  the  reason  of  your  ap- 
pearance here  at  this  peculiarly  unfashionable  hour  ? 

Mark.     Hush  !  they're  here ! 

DiGGLEs.  Are  they  ?  [aside.)  I  see  it  all,  he's  an  escaped  lunatic  and 
his  keepers  are  after  him.  I'll  question  him  [aloud.)  If  you'd  enlighten 
me  as  to  who  are  here,  I  shall  be  better  able  to  enter  into  the  fun  of 
ie  thing. 

Mark.    Fun !  cold-blooded  creature. 

DiGGLEs.     I  say,  Iceep  quiet  1 

!Mark.     Do  you  call  this  fun  ? 

DiGGLES .     No,  ecod  !  far  from  it ;  but  if — 

Mark.     Hush  ;  or  I  am  lost  I 

DIggles.     What's  that  to  me  ? 

Made.  If  I  am  discovered,  and  you  with  me,  it  might  go  hard 
■with  you — 

DiGGLSs.  Might  it !  then  why  the  deuce  don't  you  go  away?  [aside) 
This  might  be  some  romantic  and  horrible  adventure  and  I  the  hero 
— It  mu3t  be. 

Mark.  Listen  to  my  melancholy  story — 

DiGGLES.  Melancholy  !  with  the  greatest  pleasure. 

Mark.  A  romance  of  real  life — 

DiGGLEs.  Romance !  take  some  supper — ^pickles. 

Mark.  Pooh  t  harkye,  sir  ;  did  you  ever  love  ? 

DiGGLES.  Did  I ! — rather. 

Mark.  Ah,  but  did  you  ever  love  a  young  and  gnshing  girl,  whose 
aaba.ster  brow  reared  its  lofty  crest,  whose — 

DiGGLKs.  No  !  I  can't  say  I  ever  did. — I  am  in  love  with  a  shadow 
—I  shouldn't  perhaps  describe  it  as  a  gushing  shadow,  but  beautifully 
shady. 

Mark.  Did  you  ever  fip^ht  for  her  ? 

DiGGi.Es-  No,  I  can't  fitrht. 

Mark.  Did  you  ever  kill  anybody?  , 

DiGGLES.   No. 

Mark.  I  have  ! 

DiGGLES.  Oh,  indeed! 

Mark.  In  a  duel. 

DiGGLES.  You  don't  say  sol 

^Iark.  This  very  evening. 

DiGGUEs.  Ha,  ha!  what  an  agreeable  personage- r-but  yon  haven't 


ROMANCE     UNDER    CIFFICULTiES.  7 

tasfcn  the  trouble  of  coming  up  here  merely  to  tell  me  that !  [aside) 
Must  be  a  lunatic.     I'll  look  after  the  knives. 

Mark.  No — listen  to  my  story — I  am  the  Count  de  Potso ! 

DiGGLEs.  The  de  Poteo  ! — take  a  chair,  (offers  one.) 

Mark,  [sitting)  Well,  one  evening  in  the  month  of  June,  I  happened 
to—  (aside.)  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  (aloud.)  Well,  one  evening  in 
the  month  of  June — 

DiGGLEs.  Yes  we  had  that  before. 

Mark.  Well,  I  was  going  to  say  that — by  the  way  do  you  know  the 
Countess  Hissemorf brushquick  ? 

DiGGLES.  No — no. 

Mark.  Ah,  then  you  wouldn't  understand  the  remainder  of  the  story. 
(aside)  Rather  lucky — as  I  didn't  know  it  myself,  but  it  will  be  near 
the  appointed  time  for  Fanny,  I  must  get  him  out  of  the  room — of  his 
own  room,  ha,  ha !  (aloud)  My  dear  sir,  have  you  in  your  composition 
got  one  particle  of  feeling  for  a  romantic  situation  ? 

DiGGLEs.  One  romantic  particle?  I'm  made  up  of  romantic  particles 
— including  my  toes . 

Mark  .  Then  you  are  the  man  for  me — will  you  keep  watch  for  me 
— the  myrmidons  of  the  law  are  on  my  track .  I  will  secrete  myself 
here — directly  all  is  safe,  I  will  escape — owing  my  life,  eternal  gratitude 
to  you,  my  benefactor,  my  preserver  ! 

UiGGLES.  Don't  mention  it,  your  highness — I  mean  my  lord  ;  but  my 
dear  Potso — I  mean  Count  de  Potso — tell  me,  is  there  a  lady  in  the  case? 

Mark.  There  is ! 

DiGGLES.  And  a  shadow — oh,  say  she's  got  a  shadow — 

Mark.  Well,  there  is  a  shadow,  (aside.)  The  man's  a  lunatic,  ha,  ha  1 
(aloud.)  But  now  be  off,  and  if  you  see  anyone  coming  sing  out.  (goes 
up  and  listens  at  door,  r.  u.  e.) 

DiGGLES.  I  go — I  fly — at  last  I  begin  to  be  a  hero.  I  am  going  to 
keep  watch  for  a  count  who's  fought  a  duel  and  got  a  lady  in  the  case 
— yes,  I'm  going  to  keep  watch  for  the  magnanimous  Potso,  and  if  I 
tee  anyone,  sing  out .  (taking  his  Iiat.) 

Mark  .   She's  coming — I  hear  her .     Hallo !  where  are  you  off  to  ? 

DiGGLES.  I'm  going  to  sing  out — 

Mark.   Yes;  but  not  that  way — ^here — (pointing  to  tvindoUJ .) 

DiGGLES .   Out  of  the  window !  Pooh  ! 

Mark  .  Think  of  the  romance — 

D  iGGLES  .   Think  of  the  danger — 

Mark  .  There's  the  ladder — you  can  stand  on  that . 

DiGGLES.  Can  1 1  well,  don't  be  in  a  hurry.  I  want  to  put  on  my 
boots,  and  then — 

Mark.  Never  mind  your  boots — here,  (opens  window.)  Now,  come 
—here's  the  ladder . 

DiGQLES .  I  don't  half  like  it — ^how  infernally  cold  it  is  !  Count  de 
Potso,  much  as  I  esteem  you  personally,  allow  me  to  say  that — 

Mark.   Hush  !  out  with  you.     One  leg  over — (hoists  one  leg  over.) 

that's  it;  (Diggles  sneezes . )  Now  the  other — there  you  are. 


8  ROMANCE    ITNDES,    DIFFICULTIES. 

DiOGi.Es .  Yes,  here  I  am — but  allow  me  to  observe,  Count  de  Fotso, 
that  nothina:  but — (Makkuam  shuts  the  window  and  bolts  it.      Diggles 
appears  as-  ;/  still  expostulating  ami  then  slowly  descends.     Markham 
places  candle  at  extreme  R.  h.  on  table — tlien  opens  door  R.  u  e.) 
Enter  Miss  Newbdry,  r  .  u .  e  . 

Mark  .   My  dear  Fanny  ! 

Miss  N  .  5ly  dear  Frederick — how  on  earth  did  you  get  np  here  7 
If  papa  knew — 

Mark.  That's  exactly  the  reason  why  I  am  here,  so  that  he  may  not 
know.  To  tell  the  truth,  a  little  simpleton,  a  friend  of  mine,  lent  mc? 
these  rooms  because  they  are  above  yours . 

Miss  N.  Oh,  whatfiin !  AVhy,  I  do  declare  there's  a  trombone.  Do 
you  play  the  trombone,  Frederick  ? 

Mark  .   No,  why  ? 

Mi.ss  N.  Why,  some  one  has  been  making  the  most  horrid  noises  on 
that  instrument,  exactly  underneath  our  window, for  five  nights  running. 
I  thought  it  might  be  you : 

Mark.  No,  Fanny — I  am  not  addicted  to  making  horrid  noises  ;  but 
listen — I  have  some  cpital  news.  You  know  your  father  objected  to 
our  marriage  because  I  ^.ad  nothing — 

Mlss  N.  And  I  less.  %  But  what  is  this  news  ? 

Mark.  Do  you  recollect  my  old  aunt  Maria? 

Miss  X.  Oh  yes,  perfectly  ;  when  we  were  little  children,  we  used  to 
spend  our  usual  holyday  there,  and  make  ourselves  ill  for  a  week  with 
her  strawlierrics  and  cream.     Oh,  I've  a  vivid  recollection  of  her. 

Mark.  Well,  she's  dead? 

Miss  N.  Is  that  the  capital  news  ? 

Mark.  You  sliall  hear.  She  took  a  great  fancy  to  me  in  my  pina- 
fore days.     I  was  sharp  and  clever  at  some  things. 

Miss  N.  Yos,  eating  strawberries  in  particular. 

Mark.  AV^ell,  whether  it  was  for  that  particular  talent  or  not,  she  has 
made  me  her  sole  heir . 

Miss  N  .  Oh,  my !  what  a  nice  old  thing !  How  I  should  have  loved 
her  if  she'd  been  alive. 

Mark.   Don't  say  so — it's  ungrateful .     She's  much  better  dead . 

MiS3  N .  But  what  a  dear,  thoughtful  old  soul  she  was  to  go  off  just 
at  this  time .  Oh,  Frederick,  it  isn't  every  one  who  has  got  such  consi- 
derate relations .  Fapa  will  agree  at  once  now .  Why  haven't  you 
told  him  ? 

Mark.  Because  I  waited  to  give  you  the  first  intelligence.  Wasn't 
it  a  good  thought  of  mine  sending  you  that  letter  this  evening  ? 

Miss  N .  That  Icttcjr  !  what  letter  ? 

Mark  .   Why  didn't  you  take  one  in  at  your  window  this  evening  ? 

Miss  N.  No.  My  coming  here  was  quite  accidental.  Oh,  Fred, 
a  sudden  thought  strikes  me — papa  has  got  the  letter.  (Diggles  ap- 
pears at  wimlow  and  sneezes.)  Oh  I  what's  that? 

Mark.  That?  (aude.)  My  sentry,  with  a  cold .  (a/owJ.)  Oh,  nothing 
— did  you  hear  anything  ? 


KOMANCE    UNDER    I  f  FICULTIES.  9 

fDiGGLKS  tries  inefectually  to  open  window,  then  taps  at  It. 

Miss  N  .  Oh,  dear — there  it  is  again  1  I'm  so  frightened !  Oh,  Fred, 
the  room's  haunted .     (Diggles  sneezes  and  coughs . 

Mark,  {aside.)  He's  getting  restive,  (aloud.)  Fear  nothing. 
And  if  your  father  does  not  come  up  here — 

(Mr.   Newbury  in  a  gruff  voice  calls  "  Fanny  1  Fanny !" 

Miss  N.  My  father"!  [peeps  out  of  r.  u.  e.)  He's  on  the  landing 
down  stairs .     Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ? 

Mark.  I've  got  it — ruu  in  here.  I'll  let  you  out  when  the  danger's 
over. 

{opens  door  r.  c. — Fannt  runs  in — ^Markham  shvis  it. 

DiGGLES.  Let  me  in — I'm  infernally  cold ! 

Mark.  Oh,  my  coast-guard,  {puts  out  candle,  unlocks  window.)  Come 
in  !  Now  to  see  the  fun,  and  await  my  best  opportunity,  jumps  on 
bed  and  draws  curtains.) 

Entei-  DiQGLES,  through  window. 

DiGGLEs.  It's  all  very  fine  talking  about  romance — but  there's  noth- 
ing romantic  in  this  infernal  cold !  {sneezes.)  Why,  there's  no  light  in 
the  room.  Count  de  Potso,  may  I  inquire  why  you  put  out  the  candle  ? 
Oh,  here  are  the  lucifers.  (Fanny  puts  her  head  out  of  r.  o. — Markhaji 
looks  out  f)om  tfie  r.  h.  end  of 'bed;  he  kisses  her — and  both  withdraw 
heads  suddenly.)  What  the  dence  was  that  ?  I  could  almost  swear  I 
heard  a  pair  of  lips  smacking .  I  say,  count — {liglUs  candle . )  did  you 
make  that  noise  ?  I  repeat,  count — why  he's  gone  ! — perhaps  he's  in  re- 
tirement amongst  the  pickles,  {opens  closet  l.  u.  e.)  No.  What  an 
extraordinary  circumstance  ?  Are  the  spoons  all  right  ?  Yes .  Well, 
as  my  eccentric  friend  has  vanished,  I'll  sit  down  and  enjoy  a  bit  of  sup- 
per— this  time  I'll  rejoice  in  pickles. 

{goes  to  cupboard,  r  . 
Enter  Mr.  Newbury,  r.  u.  e.,  who  confronts  Diggles  as  he  comes  down 

with  very  large  pickle  jar,  which  he  puts  on  table,  and  both  come  for- 
ward. 

New  .  What  do  you  mean  by  it,  sir  ? 

Diggles.  That's  the  second  time  this  evening  I've  been  asked  that 
question  in  the  same  extraordinary  manner  :  I've  got  a  good  mind  to 
throw  a  pickle  at  him .     Allow  me  to  observe,  old  gentlmeman — 

New.  Pooh!  don't  tell  me,  sir.  I  suppose  you'll  deny  you  did  it 
next. 

Diggles.  If  you'd  only  enlighten  me  as  to  what  you're  talking 
about,  it's  very  possible  I  might . 

New  .  Look  here,  sir .     Do  you  ever  write  letters,  eh  ? 

Diggles.   Well,  I  have  done  such  a  thing. 

New.  To  ladies,  eh?  . 

Diggles.  Well,  what  is  the  old  party  talking  of? 

New.  And  send  them  by  the  snuffers,  eh  ? 

Diggles.  Snuffers?  No — postman  I  {aside.)  He's  a  hoary-headed 
lunatic — worse  than  Potso. 


10  ROMANCE   UNDER    DIFFICULTIES. 

New.   But  snuflfers  and  a  piece  of  string  can  take  a  letter. 

DiGGLEs .   Can  they  ?  {aside . )  This  ancient  creature's  drunk . 

New.  Yes.     Who  taps  at  the  windows  at  nine  oclock  at  uight  ? 

DiGGLEs.  Now,  how  the  deuce  should  I  know  ? 

New.  Pooh !  no  prevarication.  You,  by  your  base  arts,  have  tried 
to  inveigle  my  daughter. 

DioGLEs.  Base  arts !  daughter  !  my  venerable  friend,  don't  be  absurd 

you  are  old  enough  to  know  better. 

New.  Absurd  !  ha  !  ha !  WTiose  letter's  this  {shewing  Markham's.) 

DiGGLEs.  Can't  tell — don't  know  the  hand-writing. 

New.  You,  of  course,  didn't  write  it?  {sarcastically.) 

DiGGLEs.  Of  course  I  didn't. 

New.  {aside.)  I'm  boiling  over  I  {aloud.)  Are  tnese  your  snuffers? 

DiGGLEs.  Now  he's  begun  about  the  snuffers  again.  Hallo  I  what 
do  I  behold  ?  My  snufffers — my  long-lost  snuffers  1  Give  me  n^  snuf- 
fers. 

New.  Then  give  me  my  daughter. 

DiGGLES.  Bother  your  daughter — I  haven't  got  your  daughter, 
"Whafs  your  snuffers  to  my  daughter — I  mean,  what's  your  daughter  to 
my  snuffers  ?  Aged  individual  !  restore  my  snuffers,  or  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  inflict  summary  chastisement  upon  you. 

New.  There,  take  your  snuffers  :  now  my  daughter  ! 

DiGGi.Es.  I  haven't  got  your  daughter  :  what  an  old  simpleton  it  is, 
Sir,  much  as  my  respect  is  for  the  hoary  head,  yet  that  hoary  head  will 
I  crown  with  a  garland  of  pickles,  {threatening  with  jar.)  if  you  don't 
instantly  retire. 

New.  I  will,  {aside.)  I'll  see  if  the  jade's  down  stairs,  but  I  won't 
lose  sight  of  this  gentleman. 

DiGGLEs.  Now  then,  there's  the  door. 

Exit  Newbury,  r.  u.  k. 
WTiat  a  delightful  evening  this  has  been  !  First,  there  was  that  face- 
tious Potso — then  that  stupid  old  blockhead,  coming  to  pester  me  about 
his  daughter;  what  should  I  know  about  his  daughter?  Stay  perhaps 
he  is  the  father  of  the  shadow  !  Why  didn't  I  ask  him  ?  AVhat  a  ro- 
mantic incident !  Here  am  I,  accused  of  inveigling  lovely  snuffers — 
I  mean  daughters  :  I  wish  it  would  really  happen — I  feel  ready  for 
anything,  especially  supper.  (Fanw  runs  out  of  cupboard,  and  lays 
hold  of  DiOGi.Es'  arm.]  Hallo !  here's  another ! 

Miss  N.  {in  a  thrilling  tone.)   Hush!  you'll  forgive  me? 

DiGOLFS.  Certainly.  {n.vde.)     What's  she  talking  about  ? 

Miss  N.  I'm  so  frightened — I  feel  so  faint ! 

DioGLES.  Faint !  let  me  offer  you  some  refreshment — take  a  pickle. 

Miss  N.  I'm  better  now — but  it  couldn't  be  helped. 

DiGOLEs.  Oh,  indeed !  Well,  that's  a  relief  to  one's  mind  at  any 
rate. 

Miss  N.  He'd  have  been  in  euch  a  n^e  if  he'd  have  found  me  here. 

Dioat.Rs.  Yoa  don't  say  so.  {aude.)  »Sne's  equal  to  Potso  1 

Miss  N.  But  you  won't  betray  mc  ? 


ROMANCE     UNDER     DIFFICULTIES.  11 

DiGGLEs.  Who — I  ?  never !  {aside.)  The  smell  of  the  pickles  haa 
got  into  her  head. 

Miss  N.  You  kept  my  secret  capitally  just  now. 

DiGGLEs.  Just  now  !  {aside.)   Clear  case  of  pickles  ! 

Miss  N.  Yes,  when  my  father  was  in  the  room.  | 

DiGGLES.  Your  father  ?     Oh,  the  hoary-headed  lunatic ! 

Miss  N.  Yes.     You  didn't  tell  him  I  was  here  ? 

DiGGLES.  Of  course  not.  {aside.)  I  didn't  know  it» 

Miss  N.  Now  will  you  do  me  a  favor — a  very  great  favor  ? 

DiGGLES.  Will  I?  {aside.)  Quite  romantic!  {aloud.)  Of  course  I 
will.  Stay — let  me  look  at  you — I  cannot  be  deceived — it  is — pardon 
the  apparent  insanity  of  the  question — but  have  you  got  such  a  thing 
as  a  shadow  ? 

Miss  N.  A  what  ?  {aside.)  The  little  man's  an  idiot ! 

DiGGLES.  A  shadow.  Did  a  lovely  reflection  of  yourself  appear  on 
the  blind  of  the  first  floor  window  about  nine  this  evening  ? 

Miss  N.  I  think  I  was  standing  there. 

DiGGLES.  Ah,  then  at  least  I  meet  you  face  to  face,  (aside.)  I'm  a 
hero.  Till  now  I  have  only  had  the  pleasure  of  introducmg  myself  to 
your  notice  through  that  romantic  instrument — the  trombone. 

Miss  N.  Oh,  then  it  was  you  who  made  those  dreadful  noises  under 
our  window  ? 

DiGGLES.  I  am  that  wretched  individual.  If  you  only  knew  the 
cold  I  have  caught  in  your  service,  and  the  amount  of  breath  that  I've 
blown  out  of  my  body.  Listen — while  on  my  knees  (regardless  of  my 
trowsers)  I  frantically  avow  my  consuming  passion. 

Markham.  {wIw  has  been  watching  this  scene  jrom  bed.)  Hallo — this 
won't  do !  {jumps  off,  takes  a  fork  and  hides  underneath  the  table.) 

Miss  N.  Oh,  sir — get  up,  {aside.)  Silly  little  man  I  I'll  make  him 
do  what  I  want  easily. 

DiGGLES.  Loveliest  creature !  (Makkham  pricks  him.)  Confound  it 
—what's  that  ?     I  could  almost  swear  I  felt  sometliing  snarp. 

Miss  N.  Where  ? 

DiGGLES.  In  my  leg — it's  the  cramp.  But  what  is  the  pain  in  my 
leg  to  the  pain  I  feel  in  my  heart  ?  Respond  to  my  love  or  here  will  I 
remain  immoveable,  {fork  again.)  Oh,  hang  it! 

Miss  N.  What's  the  matter  ? 

DiGGLES.  That's  what  I  want  to  know.  You  wish  me  to  do  a  fa- 
vour— I'm  delighted.  What  can  I  do  ?  play  the  trombone,  or  kill  any 
one.     Let  my  reward  be  to  press  this  hand. 

{he  bends  his  head  over  her  hand.     Markham  looks  out.  but  withdrawn 
his  head  suddenly  on  seeing — 

Newbury  enter,  r.  u.  e. — Fanny  screams. 

Here's  old  snuSFers  again.  {Newbury  confronts  him.)  How  d'ye  do? 
New.  (r.)  So  I've  caught  you  at  last  ? 
DiGGLES.  (c.)  I'm  not  aware  that  you  ever  tried  before. 


12  ROMANCE    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES. 

Xew.  Ilii,  ha  !  then  you  don't  write  letters  ?  oh,  no — and  my  daugb 
ter  is  not  up  here,  I  suppose  ?  What  d'ye  mean  by  it,  wretched  littk 
miscreant  ? 

DiGGLEs.  I  say,  venerable,  draw  it  mild — I'm  armed,  {flourishing 
trombone.)  Keep  off! 

New.  Oh,  ho !  so  you  are  the  person  who  has  got  the  trombone  ? 

DiGGLEs.  At  present  I  certainly  am — and,  what's  more,  1  don't  mean 
to  let  go  of  it.  [brandishing  it.) 

Miss  N.  (l. — aside  to  Diggles.)  You  won't  betray  me  ? 

DiGGLEs.  [aside  to  fier.)  Never. 

New.  Now,  miss,  perhaps  you'll  oblige  me  by  explaining  this  extra- 
ordinarv  circumstance — did  he  write  this  letter  ? 

Miss'N.  WeU— I— that  is— 

New.  I  see  it  all. 

DiGGLEs.  [aside.)  Ecod. !  it's  more  tha  i  I  do.  [aloud.)  Allow  me  to 
observe — 

New.  Silence,  sir !     You  own  to  this  letter? 

DiGGLEs.  Pooh  !  no  such  thing. 

New.  But  you  wrote  it,  and  so — 

Diggles.  Infatuated  old  gentleman !  let  me  repeat,  once  for  all,  1 
did  not :  but  if  you  think  to  bully  me,  sir — I'd  have  you  to  know — 
[sneezes.) — I  repeat,  sir — [sne  zes.) — exactly  so! 

Miss  N.  Oh,  Augustus,  tell  my  father  the  whole  truth  and  he  won't 
be  angry. 

Diggles.  Eh  ?  My  name  isn't — 

Miss  N.  [aside.)  Hush !  [aloud.)  If  you  did  ask  me  to  come  up  and 
hear  you  play  the  trombone,  I'm  sure  there's  no  harm  in  that 

New.  Play  the  trombone  ?    I'm  astounded  ! 

Diggles.  [aside.)  Ecod  !  so  am  I.  [aloud.)  Yes,  as  this  young  lady 
justly  observes,  there's  no  harm  in  that,  [aside.)  She's  got  a  wonderful 
invention. 

New.  Then  what  did  he  mean  in  liis  letter  by  "  Glorious  news  for 
you,"  eh  ? 

Diggles.  That's  a  settler ! 

Miss  N.  Why — he — he  meant  that  he'd  learnt — a  new  tune  did'nt 
you  ?  [aside  to  Diggles.)  Say  yes. 

Diggles.  Oh,  yes — ha,  ha  !  I've  learnt  a  new  tune,  [aside.)  I  wonder 
which  was  the  old  one. 

New.  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  As  for  you,  sir,  you  are  a  mis- 
erable impostor. 

Diggles.  Get  out — I'm  armed,  [flourishing  trombone.) 

New.  And  you  love  my  daughter,  eh  ?     (Fanny  makes  sigTis.) 

Diggles.  Yes — that  is — no.     (Markiiam  pricks  him  with  fork)  Oh! 

New.  You  think  she's  got  money,  eh  ?  but  you're  mistaken — ha  1 
Why,  sooner  than  she  sliouid  marry  a  wretched  little  trombone  player, 
I'd  give  her  to  my  rascally  nephew,  Markham,  on  the  spotl-without  a 
farthing — if  I  only  knew  where  to  find  him.  * 

(Markuhm  starts  up  arul  overturns  table — Fanny  screams. 


ROMANCE    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES  13 

Mark.  Here  he  is,  sir. 

New.  Fred  Markham ! 

DiGGLEs.  Count  de  Potso — under  the  table  1 

New.  Frederick  Markham — how  did  you  get  here  r 

DiGGLES.  Frederick  Markham !  You  mistake,  old  gentleman  thia 
is  iay  esteemed  friend.  Count  de  Potso.  Potso,  you've  spilt  the  pifikles. 

New.  Potso — pickles  1 

DiGGLES.  Potso's  pickles !    No,  they're  mine. 

New.  But  explain  all  this. 

Miss.  Yes,  Frederick,  tell  my  father  all,  he  won't  be  angry. 

DiGGLES.  {aside  to  Markham.)  Don't  you  believe  her,  Potso ;  he'll 
get  fearfully  incenssed. 

Mark.  I  wrote  that  letter. 

DiGGLES.  You !  Potso !  under  the  table ! 

Mark.  No,  on  the  table 

New.  And  sent  it  by  the  string  and  snuffers  ? 

DiGGLES.  [aside.)  The  old  gentleman's  mad  about  string  and  snuf- 
fers? 

Mark.  I  confess  I  did,  sir  ;  some  one  took  it  in. 

New.  I  did  ;  I  thought  it  came  from  this — person. 

Miss  N.  Oh  no,  it  didn't,  did  it  ?     [aside  to  Diggles.)  Say  no. 

DiGGLES.  It's  no  good  saying  no,  he  won't  believe  me — but  to  oblig* 
you,  I  will,  [shouting  to  Newberry.)  No  ! 

Mark.  Quite  true.     I  exonerate  this  gentleman  from  all  blame. 

DiGGLES.  Thankee,  Potso  !  that's  worthy  of  you.  And  now,  having 
settled  this  little  business,  perhap's  you'd  all  oblige  me  by  disappearing 
from  this  gay  and  festive  scene. 

Miss  N.  Stay,  Frederick !  now  you  have  an  opportunity,  tell  my 
father  the  good  news. 

DiGGLES.  [gesticalating.)  Did  you  hear  my  suggestion  ? 

Mark.  Mr.  Newbury,  I  can  now  put  in  a  fair  claim  for  your  daught- 
er's hand. 

DiGGLES.  There  goes  my  romance ! 

Mark.  My  Aunt  Maria  has  died  and  left  me  her  heir. 

DiGGLES.  Jolly  old  woman  1 

New.  Her  heir  !  come  to  my  arms.  I'm  not  influenced  by  money— 
but  here,  Fanny's  yours  ! 

DiGGLES.  Disinterested  generosity!  Potso,  I  congratulate  you— * 
Countess  of  Potso,  same  to  you. 

New.     Now  let  me  apologize  for  the  inconvenience  I've  caused  yo« 

Miss.  N.  Oh,  yes  !  I'm  so  very  sorry — we  won't  do  it  again. 

DiGGLES.  Thank  you.    As  for  that  respected  antediluvian,  I  forgive 

him.    You  were  under  a  mistake,  Mr. by  the  way,  whafa  yout 

name? 

New.  Newbury,  sir — Benjamin  Newbury. 

DiGGLES.  Newbury — indeed  ?  how  things  do  come  about — what  t 
strange  coincidence ! 


14  ROMANCE   UNDER.   DIFFICULTIES. 

New.  TVTiat  is  !  what  do  you  mean  ? 

DiGOLEs.  Merely,  that  I  never  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  before. 
James  Diggles — allow  me  to  introduce  myself,  Benjamin — Timothy — 
Benjamin — Pots.>-  •  Diggles. 

Mark.  Mr.  Diggles  1  have  deceived  you. 

Diggles.  Oh,  Potso ! 

Mark.  My  name  is  not  Potso,  but  Frederick  Markham — very  much 
at  your  seirvice. 

Diggles.  Fred  Markham !  Let  me  look  at  you — what  a  strong 
likeness ! 

Miss  N.  To  whom  ? 

Diggles.  Why,  to  Brown  !  D'ye  know  Brown  ?  How  Brown  would 
enjoy  this  scene — truly  romantic !  True  lovers  here — pacified  antedilu- 
vian parent  there — myself  in  the  middle :  it's  really  affecting  !  Bless 
you,  my  children  !  Old  man,  may  your  years  close  in  peace  I  I  shall 
bid  farewell  to  this  busy  scene,  and  go — 

All.  AVhere  ? 

Diggles.  To  bed !  to  sleep  that  sleep  which  innocence  only  knows. 

New.  Pooh  !  No  bed  tonight  1  come  and  joinour  party  at  supper. 

Mark.  Yes,  come,  do! 

Miss  N.  Oh,  do  come  ! 

Diggles.  I  will :  and,  to  enliven  the  fleeing  hours,  I  will  bring  my 
troaibone. 

New.  Yes — but  don't  play  it. 

Diggles.  I  didn't  intend  to — I  couldn't  if  I  did.  But  now  we'll  go 
to  supper — there  well  enjoy  a  laugh  over  the  events  of  the  evening  ; 
and  if  our  kind  friends  will  only  add  their  applause,  our  happiness  will 
be  complete,  and  I  shall  have  no  cause  to  repent  your  having  seen  my 
"Romance"  although  "  in  Difficulties." 

B.  Newbcrt.  Diggles.  Miss  N  Masshax.  l 


VHE    KNO. 


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